![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I have not had much to say for the last couple of months. I have not liked myself very much, and I know of no way to make that interesting or entertaining for anyone, including myself.
I have a story to share. I haven't told stories like this in a very long time, but it seemed about due.
Once upon a time there was a princess with wings of rage and joy. Past and future held no power over her; only in the moment did she exist. She sought other people greedily, and responded openly, honestly, and completely to them. She was strong, and wise, and well loved.
Darkness fell, though. The King fell under a spell and was taken from the princess. The Queen struggled to rule the Kingdom alone. Many strangers came to the kingdom bringing gifts - the fruits of fear and sorrow - and the princess ate much of them. Her wings were bent and broken, and she languished with a belly too full to fly.
Time passed, and the princess began to wander. She went to the other princes and princesses, and they saw her and turned her away; no on ehad use for a princess with broken wings. She went to the wise people, but their advice was strange and the metal they wanted to bolt into her wings and spine hung strangely. She went to the Kings and Queens, but they were so focused on lacing flowers into her hair and painting her gaudily that she left and they didn't notice for years.
The princess wandered into the forest. Since she was walking, her wings had time to heal. She met others in the woods with other ailments, and in them saw something of herself. Everywhere, she looked for the person who would see her, ask what pained her, and heal her. The princess began to realize, though, that when many of the other people looked at her, they saw themselves reflected back and not her at all.
She learned to cover her healing wings with crepe and hide her sorrow, fear, and rage behind a mask of joy, and she hoped for the person to come who would name her. She walked for nine years, until crepe was tattered and her mask was a mess of wire and paper, until she came upon a mirror.
Looking into the mirror, she saw the Truth.
"You carry darkness inside you, and it hurts, and you need to let it go. While you carry it you will never be free."
All at once, a cold shiver went through her, and she vomited up most the fruit of sorrow and fear she had swallowed so long ago. Among the mangled fruit and bile were twenty four gleaming stones, hardened by nine and nine years of suffering.
I have a story to share. I haven't told stories like this in a very long time, but it seemed about due.
Once upon a time there was a princess with wings of rage and joy. Past and future held no power over her; only in the moment did she exist. She sought other people greedily, and responded openly, honestly, and completely to them. She was strong, and wise, and well loved.
Darkness fell, though. The King fell under a spell and was taken from the princess. The Queen struggled to rule the Kingdom alone. Many strangers came to the kingdom bringing gifts - the fruits of fear and sorrow - and the princess ate much of them. Her wings were bent and broken, and she languished with a belly too full to fly.
Time passed, and the princess began to wander. She went to the other princes and princesses, and they saw her and turned her away; no on ehad use for a princess with broken wings. She went to the wise people, but their advice was strange and the metal they wanted to bolt into her wings and spine hung strangely. She went to the Kings and Queens, but they were so focused on lacing flowers into her hair and painting her gaudily that she left and they didn't notice for years.
The princess wandered into the forest. Since she was walking, her wings had time to heal. She met others in the woods with other ailments, and in them saw something of herself. Everywhere, she looked for the person who would see her, ask what pained her, and heal her. The princess began to realize, though, that when many of the other people looked at her, they saw themselves reflected back and not her at all.
She learned to cover her healing wings with crepe and hide her sorrow, fear, and rage behind a mask of joy, and she hoped for the person to come who would name her. She walked for nine years, until crepe was tattered and her mask was a mess of wire and paper, until she came upon a mirror.
Looking into the mirror, she saw the Truth.
"You carry darkness inside you, and it hurts, and you need to let it go. While you carry it you will never be free."
All at once, a cold shiver went through her, and she vomited up most the fruit of sorrow and fear she had swallowed so long ago. Among the mangled fruit and bile were twenty four gleaming stones, hardened by nine and nine years of suffering.
